


End of Endings

by December Dragon (StarlightOnInk), StarlightOnInk



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, The Last of Us
Genre: Alfred is much older than Ellie in this fic, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Based on a video game, Crossover, Guns, Infected, Language, M/M, Multichapter, Multiple chapters, RusAme, Swearing, Violence, Zombie Apocalypse, will add more characters as they are included
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightOnInk/pseuds/December%20Dragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightOnInk/pseuds/StarlightOnInk
Summary: When the infection spread, chaos reigned with it. Hope became only present in the small deeds, the simple deeds, the proof that beneath the horrific losses and grief, humanity still burned ever present. Then, even those dwindled to but a meager flicker. Family members and friends alike could receive a single bite, and within days or less they would be blind to love, blind to friendship, and attack anything within its sight. As people scrambled to find a way to live, a group known as the Fireflies worked in the background to assume some form of order, of safety. Ivan Braginsky is given a simple task, to transport a man by the name of Alfred Jones, to safety among the Fireflies, a mission that holds as many secrets as the mystery of the Infected. But it also may hold the world’s last hope to be rid of the Infected once and for all. But much could be lost along the way…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born from me seeing the potential for so many parallels between characters from The Last of Us and Hetalia. Warnings include character death, violence, strong language, and adult themes. Though this is labeled as a zombie apocalypse, according to the canon of The Last of Us, they are NOT exactly zombies; rather, Infected, and the Infected are as they are due to a fungus. I will try to follow the rules of the video game canon as close as possible. I will also do my best to make this as accessible to those who did not play the video game or watch videos of it. If you have any questions or suggestions, I more than welcome hearing from you!
> 
> As a quick note, Hima-papa once suggested Irunya as a human name for Ukraine, and I'll be using that in this fic, or Iryna, and any variants that follow Ukrainian naming schemes. She is Ukrainian after all! :)
> 
> See you at the end!

The methodic ticking of the clock. The scratching of a pencil on paper. Generic prerecorded laugher from the television in the other room. These were the sounds of a normal household. These were the sounds that played their routine, safe symphony for Irunya as she poured over her schoolwork. The nearby clock read 10:30. It was far past what her parents would have let her stay up to, but they were in the city for their anniversary and, for the first time, had left Irunya the responsibility of watching over her younger siblings. For years leading up to this night she had insisted to them that she was more than responsible enough to take up the task, that there was  _ no need _ for a babysitter, didn’t they trust her? But now that she was sixteen, they relented.

_ “Call your grandfather if anything comes up!” they had urged her one last time before pecking her on the forehead, moving on to do the same to her brother and sister _ .

And to their retreating backs she had assured them there would be no need.

Truth be told, she was rather preoccupied- but so were her siblings, apparently. With no parents home- and an elder sister engrossed in her work- they were taking the opportunity to stay up past their designated bedtimes and watch television. From the sounds issuing from the adjacent room, it was a sitcom. Irunya allowed herself a slight yawn, sparkling blue eyes drooping with weariness as she collected up her things and relocated to the den. There, sure enough, were her brother and sister lounging on the couch as if they were not seriously breaking curfew.

“You should be in bed, both of you,” Irunya chided gently, sitting between them and laying her paperwork down on the coffee table.

“What about you?” her brother, Ivan asked, brilliant vibrant eyes flicking over to examine her project.

“I just want to be prepared for my history exam tomorrow,” Irunya said defensively, bumping his shoulder good-naturedly.

“But what if we have tomorrow off?” Ivan said, pushing back, and soon it became a steady exchange of gentle pushes between the two.

“Why on earth would we not have classes tomorrow?” Irunya asked in exasperation, adjusting her arm as her sister, Natalya moved in to lean on her shoulder, the better to not be left out.

Ivan gave a noncommittal shrug. “I hope we do not have school tomorrow,” was his only response.

Irunya rolled her eyes, her free hand now working on freeing some of the tangles in her sister’s long hair. “Well, I have an exam tomorrow, and my teacher said there would be an essay in it. She even said the topics we could choose from, and I want to be prepared.” At this, her chest swelled with pride. That was her favorite subject; and she was easily the most involved out of all her classmates. Her teacher had even said she was looking forward to her responses in particular for the upcoming test. She did not want to disappoint after hearing such praise.

“What will you write about?” Natalya piped in, looking at her sister’s cramped handwriting.

“Examples of when fear drove major historical events,” Irunya recited automatically. “The other choice was when misinformation did, but I liked this one better; it seemed more of a challenge, but I found that it is true for a lot of things.”

“You will do good,” Natalya said decidedly. “And you will get all A’s, and we can all live in a mansion you buy when you become a millionaire.”

“I will be fine with that.” She cast a fond yet saddened glance around their darkened home. Oh, yes, it housed both the family of five and their many fond memories, but it was not what Irunya wanted for herself. So that was the reason to make sure she excelled in her studies; in her new home, one room would be as large as their current house- she was sure of it!

“But you two still need to get to bed.”

Ivan looked up at her with pleading amethyst eyes, nose crinkled. “So do you,” he reasoned slowly. “You will not pass if you are too tired.

“That is a fair point, I suppose,” she admitted, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. “How about we all turn in? It will be nicer than being cramped on the couch.”

Since yawns were contagious, it was not long before the others were forced to concede defeat. As three, they traipsed upstairs, Ivan heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth, while Irunya helped Natalya pick out an outfit for the next day.

“What about this one?” Irunya said imploringly after the third outfit was rejected.

“There’s no point- we won’t have school tomorrow!”

That earned another roll of the eyes. “Vanya, do you see what you have done?” she called down the hall. An unintelligible gurgle sounded in response no doubt as Ivan rinsed the toothpaste from his mouth.

About halfway through her fussing, the phone rang. Irunya paused halfway through running a comb through Natalya’s long tresses. It had to be eleven o’clock! Who on earth would be calling now? Oh, but wait…

Irunya rushed to the phone. “ _ Allo _ ?”

“Irunya- get your brother and sister! Get into one of the rooms with a lock, and wait for your grandfather!” her father’s gravelly voice cried through the receiver.

Suddenly, Irunya’s insides felt as though they had been replaced by ice. A dull ache developed in her chest as she took in how…how  _ scared _ her father sounded- her tall, imperious, confident father.

“F-father? What is it? What is wrong?” she asked, hoping- praying- for his tone to shift back to its usual reassuring rumble.

“We will explain later, just get somewhere with a lock and wait- your grandfather is on his way. We will see you soon. We love you all!”

She barely had time to utter a quick  _ I love you too _ in return before the line went ead.

But not before she heard an ominous screeching. Not the screeching of car tires, heels against a polished floor, or even of rusty door hinges. No, this screeching came from a human mouth…

Heart pounding, ears suddenly picking up the slightest noise and vastly misinterpreting it, Irunya turned round and grabbed her sister by the hand, her fingers enveloping those of Natalya’s. “Ivan?” she called shrilly. “Ivan!”

He poked his head out of the bathroom. “ _ Shto eta? _ ” he asked unconcernedly.

“Come, we are going downstairs.”

A pale eyebrow rose. “Why? I thought we needed to go to bed.”

All patience evaporated and she seized his hand and tugged him back to the stairs. Feeling jittery, she kept them pressed close against her as she grabbed the cordless phone and herded them into the downstairs bathroom.

Once there, with the door locked behind them, Irunya slid down to the floor, her siblings’ questions drowned out by the sounds of her internal panic. Why would their parents say such a thing? What could be going on in the city that made them worry for their children back home? Was it terrorists? Did they suddenly not trust her to watch them, to keep them safe, to guard her family with her life? Maybe it did not have to be concern over  _ her _ capabilities personally. Perhaps this was the typical fears of parents whose children were out of their sight- a sudden, horrid, dawning realization that their beloved children were outside the protection of their embrace. Yes, that must be it. And soon their grandfather, the grizzled, old war veteran whose icy gaze promised swift retribution to anyone who harmed his loved ones, would be there. And they would be safely tucked away in their beds, awoken rudely to the shrill sound of the alarm clock, and have to trudge off to classes, where Irunya would pour over her essay, the outline for which she had just spent two hours preparing. Her teacher would read it and commend her for her boldness, perhaps read some passages to the class, and ask her to submit it as an example for future classes. It all seemed so simple, almost possible to imagine now.

And then she heard it.

“Quiet!” she hissed, covering her siblings’ mouths. They turned wide eyes on her, ears straining to hear what had caused such alarm. It came again.

A heavy, uneven, scratchy pounding. Hoarse, inhuman moaning, crying, gasping.

Screeching.

A single wavering sniffle escaped past Irunya’s lips as her body became numb. Her brother and sister looked at her with unconcealed fear. They had been pulled from the warm familiar comfort of their nightly routines by an unexpected phone call and their sister’s cryptic commands. This only added to their reasons for horror.

It took every ounce of power Irunya had- and energy she had long since spent, to keep her voice even, her gaze clear, her limbs from shaking. This was the brave mask her family needed to get through this- whatever  _ this _ was. With more assurance than she felt, she rounded on her brother and sister and spoke in a voice of false calm. “We are heading over to grandpa’s,” she said as the pounding and scratching grew louder, more urgent, more  _ feral _ . “So, we are going to head to the car. We will not bring anything but coats, alright?” Looking back, she would find it miraculous how her hands did not shake as she grasped onto her siblings and led them imperiously out of the bathroom, the cramped space with its fluorescent lighting looking like a final fortress they were turning their backs on. “Go grab your jackets,” she said quietly, but just enough to carry over the banging. She herself headed into the kitchen and scooped up the car keys- her parents had ordered a taxi service to make their trip earlier- and rushed softly back to the foyer. “Ivan- you must have something warmer than that!” she hissed, seeing her brother tugging on a denim jacket as she herself pulled on an oversized sweatshirt. Natalya was wrapped snugly in a thick winter coat that would have been excessive during the day, but on this crisp evening with its frights to chill the bone, it seemed to be a portable barrier of safety.

Ivan shook his head, eyes darting to somewhere behind Irunya, where another set of hands took to pounding on their home. “I left it at friend’s home,” he mumbled timidly. “It is enough,” he added, having been able to endure the chill better than his sisters.

“Alright, never mind that,” Irunya said distractedly, snatching up her favorite scarf. The soft pink fabric was a welcome burst of familiarity in her grasp as she wrapped it securely around Ivan’s neck. “You still need more coverage. Here.” Finishing her work, she guided them to the garage, closing the door as quietly as possible behind her. Her heart rate now matched the incessant pounding from outside, and no had she closed the garage door and opened the back passenger car door than the unmistakable sound of breaking glass reached her ears. Irunya bit her lip to hold back a sob as the glass door to their porch was no doubt destroyed. Buckling Natalya in, Irunya grasped Ivan’s arm firmly as she marched him over to the other side, more to have the assurance of comfort than feeling the need to really guide him anymore. “Vanya,” she murmured softly, hurriedly. “When we are driving, I need you to keep talking to Natalya. Hearing you two will help me relax and concentrate so we can get to grandpa’s house. Please do not ask me questions- I will explain everything when we are with him. But I really need you to do this for me.” In truth, she hoped that if her brother and sister could distract each other, they might not have to see whatever was now polluting their neighborhood with those inhuman screams and wails. They could not be scared, they could not be worried- they needed to feel safe, and she would make sure they had that comfort. Ivan blinked up at her in confusion before giving a hesitant nod.

The horrid sounds now infiltrating their home, what should have been their eternal and personal sanctuary from all ills of the outside world, seemed to become dulled as Irunya’s finger hovered over the button that would open the outer door. A single breath in, then out, and she applied some pressure. The door slid open, the noise loud- too loud. Whatever was running amuck would be drawn to it like moths to a flame. But Irunya chose only to focus on what was in front of her, and where they needed to be.

Her siblings’ chatter filtered in through the ringing in her rears as she drove forward, failing to hide that horrible screeching, let loose with a new kind of fervor as whatever it was caught sight of their car. She felt rather than saw a figure approaching, desperately trying to get to their car. The gas pedal slammed to the floor as she tore down the road, all of her driving lessons coming into play in a whole new perverse way. As she tore out of the neighborhood into less inhabited country lanes, the stifling atmosphere of danger seemed to ebb away, and she found herself feeling calmer. Things proceeded in this easier fashion- her brother and sister making forced conversation with Natalya clinging to her brother’s arm while Ivan, for once, did not seem to mind, and the only sign of life coming from the row of car lights forced to a standstill up ahead.

Irunya was forced to perform some tricky maneuvers, knuckles white as she twisted the steering wheel this way and that, trying, with many others, to break past the traffic jam just outside the outskirts of where their grandfather lived. That was when things became messy. As they pulled into the more heavily populated areas, fear had seeped in through every nook and cranny, infecting everyone. Sirens wailed, though the authorities seemed unable to determine where to go first. And then she got her first glimpse of  _ them _ .

The basic human features were still present- ears, eyes, nose, mouth. But they lacked all sense of humanity, of true awareness and nuanced emotions. Blood was smeared across the faces of these strange, infected victims, coating their cheeks or dripping from mouths twisted into harsh moans. Even their faces seemed warped, taking on a strange almost fungal appearance. They charged down anyone unfortunate enough to be walking- no, running, sprinting, fleeing- out in the open. Cars flew past, crashing into humans and infected alike. Shots rang out. Radios blared panicked orders and updates. It was all a rush of sights and sensations-

_ Crash! _

A car came careening straight into the passenger side of their vehicle, sending it skirting out of control. Everyone inside screamed as gravity and inertia took over, lodging them into a dip just off the side of the road. Irunya’s shoulder slammed hard into her door, and from the back she heard the pained cries of her brother and sister. The car was tipped forward precariously, but they were- mercifully- on solid enough ground. But now they had no more car…

The horror of this latest update evaporated as Irunya’s eyes flicked upward and she saw, framed magnificently in the windshield, the housing complex their grandfather lived in. Her shoulder screaming in protest, Irunya tore off her seatbelt and clambered to the back of the car.

“Are you alright?” she asked breathlessly. Her stomach churned unpleasantly. Natalya’s long pale hair was stained red from a cut on her temple where she had banged into the window. Ivan was clutching his leg and taking deep, staggered breaths.

“It hurts,” Natlya murmured as her sister took off her jacket and pressed it to her temple.

“I know, I know, I am so sorry, darling,” Irunya cooed miserably. “Grandpa’s house is just near here. He will make it better, I promise. This will help. We just need to go a little bit further now. Ivan?” she called to her brother, whose face had paled considerably. “Natalya is going to help you- just lean on her, and I will get us to grandpa, alright?” He gave a stiff nod.

It was slow going now that they were wounded. Between the uneven, grassy terrain and the darkness, they had to maneuver carefully to avoid further injury. Irunya’s shoulder throbbed with each breath of night air, every beat of her heart, each foot moved one in front of the other further along. Beside her, Ivan and Natalya clambered through the shrubbery while she continued to apply pressure to Natalya’s cut. Blood had already seemed through the makeshift bandage, but she trudged on. Around them, the sounds of chaos continued to disrupt the late hour. The occasional lights from police cars gave them brief flashes of sight, illuminating the ground in bursts of red and blue, providing a brief reprieve from their blind hobbling.

Irunya caught sight of Natalya’s pale, strained features. “Here, let me switch, I’ll help him while you-”

“STOP RIGHT THERE!”

Their slow, painful march came to a halt as the three siblings stared down the barrel of a gun. The man, bleary-eyed and frightened, someone with barely anymore knowledge than them of the situation, a man recruited last minute to try and summon some order, let the gun dip slightly as he took in the sight before him. He pressed the button to his radio. “Sir, I got three wanderers here- the oldest can’t be more than sixteen.” Irunya felt Ivan’s shoulders droop with premature relief. They were with help now- someone else who would be able to aid them, someone older, a figure of authority-

The crackle of a reply. Irunya could not see the officer’s face, as the light from his flashlight muted his features, but there was no mistaking the sudden tensing of his figure. “But sir- kids too?”

Another crackle. The hand retreated from the radio, to rest instead beneath the handle of the gun, levelling it.

“NO!”

An echoing  _ bang! _ followed by a rush of motion, as Irunya shove them roughly, and the three siblings fell in a tangle of limbs to the ground. Pain seared through Ivan’s leg as it crumpled beneath him and he collapsed on top of Irunya, Natalya close behind, her platinum hair fanning out over them all like some delicate shield. With a strangled cry of pain, Ivan raised himself on shaking arms, had just a moment to look down and ask Irunya if she was alright, when a scream of agony tore through the air. He looked up, saw Natalya seething with rage as her eyes locked on the gunman, the man they had looked to for help, for hope, and pounced forward. Ivan, anchored to his spot on the ground by his broken leg, lurched forward and seized her by the wrist, holding on for dear life as she scrambled, desperate to reach their attacker, screaming an incoherent mix of hateful curses and sobs.

“YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED HER!”

Then another loud  _ bang! _ cut across her, but this time there was no pain, rush of motion, no last sacrifice of a devoted sister, only a surprised yelp and a dull thud of a body hitting the ground.

More to avoid looking down and seeing the inevitable than anything else, Ivan turned around and saw their grandfather, his own gun still aimed at the area where the man had stood, now slumped in the dirt.

Natalya’s continued sobs was what drove their grandfather from his reverie. He swooped down at once, a deep frown curling beneath his bristled beard. “What on earth are you three doing out?” he hissed, kneeling beside him. His eyes fell on his granddaughter, face down, limbs flailed out at awkward angles. With sudden care unexpected from so gruff a man, he gently turned her over, and Ivan was forced at last to look the horrible truth in the face.

Irunya was not gone yet, but the parts of her face not stained red from tears of pain were paling by the second. From inside her inner jacket pocket, the classwork she had brought with every intention of completing at her grandfather’s house was stained crimson.

“Child, you need to just hold on,” their grandfather murmured, pressing the fabric of his jacket to the wound in her chest. She gave a wet sob of pain, and he was sorely tempted to retract his hand, but did not, knowing that their seconds were precious. Ivan felt himself break as he clung to her, sure that if he held tight enough she would be unable to slip away.

“I…love you…all” she choked out, wincing as her insides betrayed her, as blood flooded through her and the pressure built, the darkness grew. She let her eyes slide shut briefly before she what felt like warm rain fell upon her cheeks, drop after drop, and she looked up to see her brother’s violet eyes flooding with tears. His heartbroken face, Natalya’s sadness that manifested in shaking rage, and her grandfather’s silent expression of grief unimaginable blocked out the sky, wtiness to so many horrors this night. “Please…stay safe…through the rest of this…” The pressure became too much…her very insides were collapsing upon themselves…the lights faded…

From somewhere far away, or perhaps less than a foot away, new cries of unrelenting pain rent the night air.

\---

“The streets are flooded with militia.”

“No one is quite sure yet where this strange epidemic came from.”

“Vaccines are being pumped through drug companies at unprecedented rates. Others, however, are choosing to try and make their own.”

“The Infected, as they are being called, have breached what had been a massive area of safety in thirteen states.”

“New leadership positions are available for filling, as their previous owners have become Infected.”

“Reports show this epidemic present across the globe. Because of safety concerns, however, travel is being limited, and only those with top qualification will be allowed to even make an appeal to travel abroad.”

“State borders have become infested with Infected, who have now settled into massive packs of sorts.”

“With martial law in effect across more than thirty states, the resistance group known as the Fireflies has begun causing disruptions with renewed zeal.”

“Join the Fireflies and you will have safety. Join the Fireflies and you will have life.”

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is! The prologue to my next big project, a Hetalia Last of Us AU. For a good portion of the time, this will follow the plot of the game with the necessary twists to cater to the Hetalia part of it. For example, all the characters will be their Hetalia canon ages (physically, not really- poor Yao wouldn’t be functioning so well at 4000). I know pretty much who will be the equivalent of who already, I just have some decisions to make about the ending. I don’t think it’s necessary to have played the game to read this, hopefully everything can be explained well within the piece itself? This is one can of worms I am both nervous and excited to open, as the game itself is very…grand in scale. And I want to do it justice, and there are a lot of parallels I want to make.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, we meet Yao, and get a thorough look at the grim ways he and Ivan must live to ensure their survival. Finally, a proposal is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with this chapter, the prologue, and all proceeding portions, has a warning for violence/blood and language.

Yao slid through the doorframe in time to see Ivan awake with a start. Large pale hands skittered about his throat and over the bedsheets, like milky spiders, searching for a certain article of clothing.

“It’s here,” Yao informed him, scooping up the beloved scarf and handing it over. Ivan’s movements were slow and deliberate as he reached out, shoulders rising and falling with great rapidity as he readjusted to his surroundings, but his eyes were locked in Yao with a mix of suspicion and concern.

Yao hated it, only too aware of what it meant.

“Where did you go?” Ivan asked when his scarf was wrapped securely about his throat.

Rather than answer, Yao said “I don’t like you wearing that to bed. One wrong move and it could choke you.”

“It will never do that,” Ivan said evenly, long legs swinging over the bed as he rose. “Now where were you?”

Yao sighed. Strands of midnight hair had come loose from his customary ponytail, framing his weary features. Amber eyes were nestled above deep shadows, the result of such limited sleep. All he wanted to do was lie down and forsaken all thoughts of other responsibilities, only if for a day or so. But such luxuries were beyond either of them, at least for now.

“I made another trade,” he confessed at last, moving around the bedroom to avoid looking at Ivan and seeing his reaction. His tone told enough.

“By yourself? Anything could have happened!” Ivan exclaimed, tensing.

“I got the money,” Yao countered, letting some of his impatience show.

This was nothing new to either of them. Ivan, his sisters and grandfather had met up with them and many other displaced families the same night everything went to hell. Anyone who could gathered at the nearby school, setting up a perimeter with the militia. Terrified faces filled the gymnasium as parents tried to comfort their little ones, friends screamed the names of companions whose safety remained a mystery, and everyone coordinated what to do next. Yao had spent most of the evening before meeting Ivan comforting his siblings. Although Kiku often favored stoicism in the face of stress, there was no hiding his fear that night. Mei’s eyes darted ceaselessly about the place, sure that those horrible monsters would burst through their barricade at any moment. Leon spent most of that time trying to keep his breathing level.

Ivan and his family came to them haggard and tearstained. Grief and pain swirled in Ivan’s violet eyes as he eased his broken leg down onto one of the bleachers. The grandfather- whose lined face, gravelly voice, and gruff mannerisms suggested a hard upbringing- carried a large bundle in his arms with all the tenderness of a mother cradling her newborn. Yao regretted asking as soon as he got an answer.

“They killed her, they killed Irunya,” Ivan stammered over and over, staring ahead unseeing.

Yao’s eyes had widened in alarm. “One of those creatures? Then she might turn into-”

Ivan shook his head, platinum bangs falling into his eyes. “N-not those things…them!” Violet eyes darted to the exit, where, outside, a fierce patrol was being maintained.

“They shot Irunya,” Natalya hissed, knuckles white as they clutched at the hem of her coat.

Yao had immediately taken them under his wing. That evening was spent molding their families into one group, and so they remained, huddled together as news and further instructions filtered in. Ivan and Natalya were orphans, for all intents and purposes, Yao realized. From what he learned, their parents were in the city when the first panic sprang up. If they had not been killed, then they were…

Yao never had the heart to tell Ivan this himself. He supposed at some point, the pieces must have fallen into place, for the Slav carried an unshakable air of mourning about him from that day forth, his shoulders hunched beneath the weight of the unknown. But Yao’s protective brotherly nature prohibited him from shattering that last strand of hope for the broken family.

Their grandfather certainly knew, for when he was not consulting with Yao’s parents or the militia, he strode apart from the group and stared at the photos in his wallet with trembling hands. Yao had been lucky. His parents were with him and his siblings. The couple did all they could through their poor health. Finding them a place of safety quickly became one of Yao’s top priorities.

Knowing his grandfather could take care of himself- and Natalya if need be- Ivan soon made Yao’s concerns his own. He shadowed him relentlessly, always asking what he could do, always ready to pass on news: “those things are called the Infected”, “it spreads by bites”, “people are working on a cure” “marshal law has been declared” “there is a safe zone one state over, just across the border”, “they are looking to recruit people to eliminate Infected”, “the more time a person is infected, the worse their site becomes, so they hunt with sound.” And so on. Ivan was without anyone to fill the void his parents and sister left, and so he immediately sought someone to fill it for him. He was so easily ready to approach Yao and let them be a unit, a team, a family. Yao could hardly refuse. He saw easily how broken Ivan was over what had happened. The only thing the Slav neglected was to properly consider how Natalya was left feeling. Indeed, something about his inability to protect Irunya as him feeling a test of some kind; thus, surely Natalya would be better with someone else. It didn’t take her long to realize his mindset and set about securing her future without any of them.

Over time, it became apparent Ivan wanted to prove to Yao he could protect him; he sought redemption, and perhaps a tender heart to beat in time with his own. The respect he possessed for Yao soon morphed in Ivan’s mind, and he mistook his emotions for something softer, more personal, and more dangerous. Ivan believed they could love each other.

Yao would not have any of it. Ivan had a special place in his heart that would cause Yao to do quite reckless deeds to ensure his safety, but such emotions were brotherly at most. And he was no fool to miss the fact that he was not right for Ivan; theirs would not be the true relationship Ivan needed. And so in addition to dodging Infected, negotiating with the militia, protecting his family, and just staying alive, he needed to try and maintain a noticeable degree of separation, to never say anything that might lead Ivan on in any way.

It wasn’t easy, especially when Ivan fussed over him as if he were something delicate, when Yao had killed his first Infected when he was sixteen. He wasn’t even supposed to be there, truth be told; he and Ivan, emboldened by their age and a thirst for action and revenge against the Infected, had snuck beyond the perimeter of the safe zone to shadow a group of soldiers off working to exterminate the fungal plague. Their movements had gone unnoticed by the military men, but not by the Clickers, whose phenomenal hearing led them to reckless prey. In the ensuing scuffle, Ivan had grabbed the Infected attacking Yao about the waist; the two had crashed to the ground, where the Clicker changed tactics and fumbled about looking for exposed flesh to sink his teeth into. It nearly did; had it not been for the scarf, those diseased, decaying teeth surely would have ripped Ivan’s throat out that day. But the delay was all Yao needed to take careful aim with his stolen handgun and blast its brains out. Silence had been their companion for ten minutes after that, in which they panted, staring at one another in a state of shock. Eventually, Ivan helped Yao to his feet, but shaking, but the feeling of accomplishment had been a drug; from that day forth, they always needed more, more,  _ more _ .

And so here they were, some ten years after their lives had been torn apart and sewn clumsily back together, rooming in the shell of a dingy apartment that had once housed a family of five. Government issued. The two had to think about their countries of origins and laugh at the irony. It didn’t last very long, however, before they remembered how scarce news of outside the states was. All they could do was make ends meet. If they could establish themselves as forces to be reckoned with, they could secure safety and perhaps passage to areas where things were better; although the government didn’t like to talk about it, other communities existed that were far less strict but just as secure, where things could be as close to normal as possible given the situation.

That was what Yao had been working on while away, and he made short work of reminding Ivan of just that. “We’re one step closer to getting out of here. I think that deserves celebration.”

“What if something had happened?” Ivan glanced around, eyes narrowed. “You did not even leave a note. I would have had no idea where you were or if you were coming back.”

Yao gave him a look that would have made any lesser man backtrack immediately. “It’s settled. I just have one loose end to fix.”

“And what is that?” Ivan asked, leaning in, tone softer. If Yao was willing to confide in him, that meant he intended for Ivan to help, and the Russian did not want to jeopardize that.

Yao ran slender fingers through his hair. “I was cheated,” he confessed. He went on to explain how, when he made to exchange their illegal arms, the money he was given had been only half. When he protested, the others used intimidation to quiet him. Through some quick words and even quicker movements, Yao had managed to reobtain half of the guns he had intended on selling. They had not liked that, but as Yao fled he left them with a warning that he would be back. He just barely heard them shout something about a “change in plans” before he was out of range. All in all, it had been a mess.

“That’s where you come in,” he finished tiredly, ambling over to the sink and rinsing the sweat from his face. “They mentioned that their head would be in the area. I figured we could speak with him and arrange getting the rest of our money in exchange for the rest of their guns.

Ivan nodded immediately. Yao knew he would. There were very few plans Ivan turned down- only ones that involved Yao working solo. “Da, let’s get this fixed.”

Breakfast was only a little more lighthearted than the start to the morning had been. Their spot in line gave them a clear view of the area in which newcomers were carefully tested to see if they were Infected or not. If the accursed radar went off, very few were pulled aside to check for bite-marks; rather, they were dragged out of line and received a bullet for their efforts. Ivan had owned one for a bit, but soon sold it to some rogue group after he saw his first execution. Dusty memories had brought themselves to the forefront of his mind with that event.

Fortunately, all those in line who were checked were deemed healthy, with that being a subjective term. They were healthy if their timidity and malnutrition were ignored. In times when they could afford it, Yao and Ivan exchanged their stolen goods with groups from the outside for food and medicine; some they kept, and others were provided to those who needed it. Rations were tough. Unfortunately, such business was risky; they needed to be careful who they gave to, lest attract unwanted attention. That could lead to a bullet just as fast as being infected could. The two men exchanged meaningful looks as they fetched their food. Both said the same thing.

_ We have to get out of here _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I tried to give some background as to how Ivan and Yao met and moved forward from their first meetup, with more exposition to come (for those who played the game, you might be able to spot who they’re parallels of), along with info on their dynamics, since it’ll be pretty important later on. In terms of plot, again, I’m planning to mirror the game itself (it’s not at all necessary to have played the game to read this fic), but also make changes to either fit the Hetalia characters or my own choices; some stuff might be glossed over, while other moments enhanced- particularly interactions with other characters. The game itself is copyright its original owners. As always, reviews are welcome, and I hope you continue to enjoy this! Eternal thank yous for the reviews, faves, and follows- they each made me overjoyed, truly!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert, a member of the elusive and enigmatic resistance known as The Fireflies, makes a change to the deal Ivan and Yao had forged. No longer will they be exchanging weapons; rather, they will be escorting a person. But to seal this deal, Ivan and Yao must fight their way through some of the worst of the worst.

Caution was as much an ally as any living being in their world. In some cases, caution was preferred; such a careful state of being could not betray you for a hefty sum. Tall lumbering Ivan needed to work hard to mimic Yao’s lithe, silent lope as they navigated through the barrier of their makeshift community. Failure to do so meant exposure; exposure meant death. It wasn’t just the Infected they had to contend with either. No, that was for farther out. Until then, their main concern was the militia. Fortunately, the hard men who patrolled the outskirts and exits of the safe zone were predictable; Yao and Ivan had, for the most part, memorized their routes over the years. Never once had they needed to spill blood when sneaking out.

Of course, some things could sneak between the cracks.

Yao raised a hand for silence. Instinctively Ivan paused. Years of experimenting and near misses had left them with a silent code to follow, the difference between safety and peril. A ringing enveloped Ivan’s ears as he strained to hear what had worried Yao. He couldn’t make anything out…

The questioning look he sent Yao was met with a stern stare that carried one crucial instruction: make no noise. Ivan nodded. Even if he couldn’t hear it, that did not mean they were in the clear. And so on they shuffled, taking slow measured steps, their feet lifting with painstaking deliberation only to be set back down gently, so very gently. The very air they breathed was taken sparingly, both to avoid detection and to listen for any enemies.

And then Ivan heard it.

A slow, grotesque rasping, coughing,  _ clicking _ .

“Clickers,” he mouthed to Yao, whose face was pale but his lips were pressed in a firm determined line. The shorter man nodded, one hand coming to rest on the knife sheathed at his hip. Ivan’s own large hand rested delicately on the handle of a heavy metal bat he’d found during one of their scavenging sessions. On they moved through the lower level of the condo. They had taken this route before. Ivan spied familiar sights, blissfully unchanged. Family photos still stood on the fireplace while just in the other room, souvenir magnets were stuck to the fridge. From their brief tours through this home, Ivan had learned that the residents had consisted of a husband, wife, and their teenage son. Pictures of the young man and his girlfriend were seen in an old photo album lying open on the coffee table. The horrid clicking was louder now; Ivan gauged with some degree of certainty the Infected making the ruckus was just two rooms over. With his heart pounding, ready to burst from his chest, Ivan slowly, very slowly eased the front door open while Yao stood right at his back, eyes darting around, waiting for an assault.

It did not come.

When the infection first spread, Ivan had come to fear the dark. It was nighttime when he and his siblings received that dreadful phone call. It was dark when they had fled just in time from the blind horror of the newly infected souls. And it was night when Irunya was shot. Later, he learned to fear the daylight; he felt exposed, an open target for the brainwashed predators seeking flesh and a new vessel for the fungus. Now, it made no matter. As the light from outside flooded the foyer, Ivan merely blinked as his eyes adjusted. It made no matter to the Infected if it were dusk or dawn, summer or winter, north or south. If they wanted to find them, they would. But humans were not without their advantages. Clickers could locate prey by hearing them out, but silent enough, Yao and Ivan could walk passed one completely avoiding detection.

That was there task now.

The front yard was littered with Clickers, moaning and clicking and rasping away. Where eyes had once been now was only a mass of swollen fungal flesh, vast tumors stretching the skin and deforming the face. It was one of the later stages of being infected, humanity had learned. As time went by, the fungus sought to expand beyond its fleshy host, and as a result massive growths developed all around the head. Not the mouth, though- no, that merely became more deadly, more befouled by the rank of consumed human flesh. It was there that the infection was spread; it was there that needed to be avoided at all cost.

Mind blank, Ivan stepped carefully around each blinded Clicker, his breathing slowed so it was barely there. Yao stayed close, hand still resting on the hilt of his knife, ready to spring into action. They both had guns, naturally, but in times when stealth was opportune, such noisy machinery was a last resort until they knew detection was unavoidable.

Ivan felt something touch his jacket; it was a barely there sensation, just enough to make the fabric press against his skin. It was Yao, amber eyes wide and fearful. He raised a thin finger.

A Runner.

Runners were young. Runners were quick. And more importantly, Runners could see. This one had no trouble seeing Ivan and Yao, frozen in the small clearing of Clickers, and the beeline it made for them was riddled with crazed shouts and grunts, its insatiable hunger and bloodlust driving it forward as a bullet leaves the barrel of a gun. With no other options, the two men bolted. The change was instantaneous. The sound of their hurried footfalls seemed to awaken the blind Clickers from a deep slumber; their heads shot unseeingly around as their powerful ears zeroed in on their location. They crashed into each other in a mob of flailing rotted limbs and clacking teeth., Ivan and Yao ducking, shoving, slashing, fleeing through them. Ivan felt the wind leave him as one tackled him at the side in a kind of grotesque embrace. The withered hands began pawing at his clothing, seeking a spot of exposed flesh. Yao was on it in a heartbeat; with a flash of silver the blade of his knife dug into the head of the Clicker, vanishing amongst the horrid growths. A wretched flood of pained clicks and groans spilled from its mouth as Yao yanked his knife free and the enemy slumped to the ground.

There was no time to revel in their victory as the need to press on loomed just as strong. Yao wheeled around and continued sprinting as Ivan drew his silencer so the barrel was level with the Runner’s head. His aim was true. The side of its face exploded in a swell of flesh and blood, the broken body crashing with an ugly  _ thump _ to the ground right as it made to leap atop Yao. The fighting continued. Yao slayed the infected body of what had been a businessman, the tattered remains of his suit still clinging to him even as he attempted to rip out Yao’s throat. Ivan shot down a woman wearing scrubs, all previous signs of professionalism wiped away with the infection. Neighbors, newcomers, and everything in between could be found amongst the hordes of Infected roaming the country, and it was this motley gang that they fought. Ivan bent backgrounds just as a Clicker’s sharpened nails came swinging inches from his face. He shot the offending hand right in the palm as it came in for a second swipe. Some distant part of him contemplated grabbing for his bat, but soon was grateful he had not; that second’s hesitation would have prevented him from shoving Yao aside as another runner pelted toward him. Yao returned the favor by slicing at the neck of said Infected, nearly taking the head right off. On and on the carnage went as Yao and Ivan fought their way out of the yard. The foes were dwindling in number. Yao tugged at Ivan’s sleeve, jerking his head in the opposite direction. Ivan understood. The two sought shelter on a fire escape, scrambling up and out of reach of the screaming, moaning, clicking Infected below them. Up and up they went, scaling along perilous edges and across gaps to get from building to building. Yao’s hawk-like eyes peered down below them as they took a short rest on a rooftop some four blocks down.

“It looks clear,” he noted quietly as Ivan panted heavily beside him.

“Is…is it ever clear?” Ivan practically wheezed, clutching at a stitch in his side. Perhaps the Infected had seen his size and marked him as a worthy meal, but many of them had swarmed around the Russian during the fight.

Despite his exhausted and cautious mindset, Yao could not prevent a smile from spreading across his features. “A fair point, Yī wàn,” he said smoothly, trying to steady the slight shake in his hands as he adjusted his ponytail. “That would be too easy.”

“God forbid things were easy,” Ivan muttered with a pout that made Yao chuckle.

“No, that would not be good.”

“How much farther?”

“Not much now. They’re by the docks.”

Ivan nodded, taking one more moment to savor the brief rest. A memory from another lifetime flashed through his mind, darkened, as though viewed through an old and damaged video player. There were some traditions his parents were unable to shake from the old country, and so before they or his siblings left for any kind of trip, they would take a moment to just sit and reflect. Always take a moment to pause and think, his parents preached. They got that from Ivan’s father. All three of them were half-siblings, brought together by the tumult of love and loss. But that was back when life was still good, still simple. Now, Natalya was safe in a community far from here, where the rules were fair and conditions pleasant, and he himself waited each day for Yao to look at him with something other than the decidedly brotherly air he always wore around him.

Their trip back to ground level was a tedious one, made all the slower by their caution. But it proved beneficial when they were able to sneak right by a small horde of Clickers without needing to draw their weapons once. Yao led them through his usual route that cut through the basement of an old townhouse. The gas masks went on. Their world became a swarm of swirling green vapors and yellow gases, of dense air and muffled steps. This was an area where the fungus had become particularly potent, transcending from its tangible state to that of an infectious airborne menace that, once inhaled, had the same effect as a bite from an Infected. Through the swirling lethal void they walked, moving as if through some majestic nightmare. They sidestepped an old ping pong table, ducked under a toppled bookcase, and slid through a rotting doorframe, the vapors dancing tantalizingly against their skin and clothes. Ivan paused as he heard a Clicker pacing slowly down the hall. There was something almost melancholic in the way it shuffled its feet, shoulders hunched and head bowed. If it weren’t for the vast swelling over its head and eyes, it could almost have still been human. But the shell of the aspiring attorney was empty of its old human dreams; the man who had dwelled in that body had succumbed to the infection, and thought nothing of protection or justice anymore. Yao and Ivan paced quietly behind the Clicker, footsteps blessedly muffled by the carpeting, caked with dust. One step, two, three step, four…

Ivan felt his heart freeze in his chest when the Clicker stopped short, making a choked gasp. It stared blindly ahead, posture so much more stiff than its almost mournful gait from before. Yao felt one of Ivan’s large hands circle around his wrist in a reassuring, protective grasp. He waited. After what felt like an eternity, the Clicker turned its head and walked down the adjacent hallway, the opposite direction of their goal. Yao’s shoulders slumped in relief as he watched the retreating figure if the Infected vanish into the mist and returned the joyful squeeze of the hand from Ivan with a tender rub on the shoulder. Violet eyes danced at him from above the gas mask, and in lieu of a smile Yao gave him the thumbs up.

Onward they went, out of the basement, crouching beneath old crumbling walls and fences to avoid the Runners patrolling the street. They were well away from the protection of the army now. Here, they needed to look out for themselves.

“Wait!” Yao hissed as Ivan made to climb over a barrier. From their position above the street they could spot the docks just a few blocks down. Between them, a handful of men were grouped, engaged in a heated discussion. “Those are the ones who gave me trouble on my way back,” Yao informed him quietly. He would recognize their leader anywhere. The man was sick; he relished the violence, flourished in the despair that plagued so many. Of all the jaded men out there, this David seemed to harbor a genuine love of causing pain. It was a bad combination when mixed with charisma and influence, very bad.

Perhaps it was a mistake to inform Ivan. The Russian’s form instantly tensed, hand diving for his gun.

“None of that!” Yao reprimanded quietly, grabbing at his fingers before they could close around the handle. Ivan’s eyes darted to their joined hands, his own immediately moving to wrap his large calloused fingers around Yao’s. However, Yao pulled away the instant he felt that spark from Ivan. “It’s not worth the fight, not now anyway. We’re outnumbered and they have better weapons. We just need to get to the Fireflies I was trading with.”

“We’ll go around then,” Ivan suggested, nodding toward a lower walkway that would take them practically right below. It was clear from the grim look he kept sending the men down below that he was not pleased with this alternative. Yao nodded, donning an expression that brooked no argument. “Yes, around. Quietly. Without engaging.”

Ivan had never felt such a desire to disobey Yao’s wishes more than when he was sneaking by that sleazy thug David.  _ I could probably break him in half with one hand tied behind my back _ , Ivan thought, teeth gritted, as he sized him up.  _ Who is he to try and hurt Yao? He could have died earlier, because of this man…no, not a man. He is lower than the Infected. Yao could have been hurt and I would not have been there to help him _ -

Yao grabbed tight to Ivan’s wrist as he crouched beside him, his eyes ochre flames. Ivan sighed shortly, pressing on with no small degree of reluctance. Yao stayed behind him, ready to pull him back should Ivan try and make a break and take on David himself. Never a dull moment, not even among friends…

Even as they slipped through the area David and his thugs were occupying, Yao still felt ill-at-ease. This was about where the deal had gone so horribly wrong. But he wasn’t alone this time. Around them the warehouse on the edge of the docks was one of the more normal sights they had seen coming here. Tall crates still stood haphazardly around the thick metal walls. Small windows let in sunlight that exposed thick dust moats dancing through the air. Some yellowing paperwork littered the ground, but apart from that the place seemed almost well maintained.

“Where are you?” Yao said in a voice just above normal talking volume. An irritating chuckle greeted him. Out from behind a stack of tall wooden boxes walked a man with a shock of white hair framing startlingly vibrant red eyes. “Ah, so the little trickster who gave my men such a hard time earlier is back for a second round. I don’t think they’re up for it, I’m afraid. You gave them a lot of trouble.”

Instinctively Ivan sidestepped so he was partially blocking Yao, shielding him from this stranger’s words and potentially from his bullets. The movement delighted the albino.

“Oh, you brought a bodyguard!” he said in amusement, ruby eyes dancing. “How cute.”

“Enough,” Yao said tersely, sidestepping Ivan, who shot him an upset look. “Your men tried to cheat me out of half of the profit we had agreed upon. So I took back half of the goods. Now, if you want to pay me in full, you can get the rest of your guns.” He said all this slowly, plainly, not wanting to affront the stranger too much but wanting it to be known he would not tolerate this betrayal.

The albino sighed, though the shadow of his smirk still remained. “Ja, about that,” he said, running a hand through his shaggy white hair. “I thought of a new deal to settle all of this. You can keep your little guns and what not, if you just help with transportation.”

“We will bring the guns to you as soon as we can come to an arrangement,” Ivan cut in. “Are you really a member of the Fireflies?” he added doubtfully.

“The name is Gilbert, and yes, of course I am,” he jeered, folding his arms. “And I don’t mean transporting the guns, fool. I just said you don’t even need to involve the rest of them if you just do this other task.”

“We did our end of the bargain, Gilbert,” Yao protested coolly. “Your men pulled the plug at the last minute for no reason and with no explanation. We’re finishing  _ this _ deal, or  _ no _ deal.”

“I’ll double the payment.”

Yao’s narrowed eyes widened in confusion. He glanced at Ivan, whose own violet eyes had widened as well. “Why would you do that?” the Russian asked suspiciously.

Gilbert’s expression changed. All traces of his former mockery had diminished; in their place, was a man who was all business. “Because you two have navigated some pretty dangerous shit in the past and I need the best.” Red eyes shone triumphantly as Yao and Ivan exchanged bemused looks.

“What…needs transporting?” Yao asked slowly.

Gilbert smiled, pleased. “Actually, it’s who. And it’s more of escorting, really.” He cast a sideways glance at something obscured by another pile of containers and whistled. The sound of shuffling feet met their ears; Ivan’s hand drifted instinctively for his gun as Yao tensed beside him. The actions did not go unnoticed by Gilbert, who snickered.

And out stepped Alfred F. Jones.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivan, Yao, and even Alfred are far from satisfied with the newest deal Gilbert presents, and each does his best to protest it.

Four pairs of eyes stared at one another following this introduction. Alfred was a tall young man, not quite level with Ivan, though the stubborn lock of hair standing on end gave him over an inch added. Vibrant blue eyes danced behind square spectacles beneath his casually messy blond locks. His posture was tense, though he was not in attack mode; hands remained stuffed into the pockets of a faded brown bomber jacket. His faded blue jeans and heavily worn sneakers showed equal signs of age and hard use. Nevertheless, he had a healthiness about him neither Ivan nor Yao had carried for a while. Gilbert watched the silent exchange of glances with open smugness.

“This, gentlemen, is Alfred. And you’ll be escorting him to the main base of operations for the Fireflies.”

“Is this your idea of a-”

“Alfred F. Jones in full,” Alfred amended with a warm smile clearly meant to be inviting. Yao scowled before continuing his protest.

“We’re escorting a person? In exchange for payment that was already established?”

“My men were supposed to sufficiently fill you in on the change of plans,” Gilbert said tiredly, with the air of someone trying to explain something for the umpteenth time. “But as I said, it’ll be double the original if you do this for me, for us, for the Fireflies.” Ah, so he was making it into a case of the greater good.

Yao and Ivan exchanged a look. A long look. Still standing before them, Alfred nervously shifted from foot to foot, casting a glance over his shoulder at Gilbert. The albino gave him a small nod of assurance, that look of conceit never wavering. By the time he looked back, Ivan and Yao were huddled together in urgent conversation.

“I think we should just do it,” Ivan muttered, surprising even himself.

“I agree,” Yao said, amber eyes betraying mild concern as they darted over to Alfred’s shifting figure. “But I don’t like having to adjust our plans around them.”

“We’re capable. We know how to navigate around here, passed the army, and even through Infected.”

“With many near misses, Yī wàn,” Yao reminded him grimly. “And there’s another matter.” Then, raising his voice, he addressed Gilbert. “And how do we know you even have the money?”

“I have it,” Gilbert said simply.

Yao was not satisfied. Ivan had seen better men quake before the look Yao was now sending Gilbert. “We are not doing this for nothing. You provide no reason, you change a perfectly legitimate deal, try to steal from me, and now wish for us to endanger ourselves based on empty promises.”

It was Gilbert’s turn to scowl. “I’ll take you to where we’re stashing our loot, if it’ll get you to shut up and accept my awesome offer. But it takes us through some nasty parts of town and I can’t risk Alfred getting caught up in all that.”

“No, just us-”

“Come on, Gil, it’ll be fine-”

Ivan and Alfred had spoken up simultaneously. Ivan stared, violet eyes wide as he contemplated Alfred, who stared right back, mirroring his own brief confusion before flashing him another nervous but warm smile. “You’re handing me over to the mob?” Alfred joked to the albino. Ivan blinked, not immediately comprehending.

Gilbert let out a grating snicker; lacking such experience, Ivan imagined it was something akin to rubbing a cheese grater against one’s eardrums. “I know neither of these dummkopfs are as awesome as me at protection detail, but they’re quite a thorn in everyone’s side, so you should be good, and you can protect their sissy selves too with all the awesome moves I showed you.”

That took Alfred aback. “Wait, you’re not coming? I thought-”

Gilbert shook his head. “Nein, I have other things to take care of.”

“Other people to steal from.”

“The sooner you let that go the sooner we can move on,” Gilbert said waspishly at Yao. “I’ll take you to the money while the Red takes Alfred the safer way to the main bridge that leads onto the highway and you can meet up there.”

“What?” Ivan demanded, looking affronted.

Yao let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yī wàn, let’s just get this over with. Where is the money?”

Gilbert looked satisfied with their acquiescence. “Now, I really shouldn’t tell you that. What if you come back and steal from me?”

“You hypocritical swine-”

“Really should blindfold you when I take you there.”

Ivan was on him in an instant. “I should shoot you now for that,” he practically sneered, mere inches from Gilbert, satisfied when he saw that gloating farce wiped temporarily away to be replaced with shock and- it brought him further joy- a flicker of fear.

It was replaced with a hard glare. “Forget it, Red, it’s called a joke. I know your little buddy won’t cross me. Now do we have a deal or not?”

The tension was thick enough to taste in the abandoned warehouse for several long seconds. With yet another sigh and no small degree of bitterness, Yao nodded, Ivan following suit equally begrudgingly. With that, Gilbert clapped his hands together and smiled warmly, though to Ivan it looked more like a leer. Suddenly businesslike, he ushered for Yao to follow.

“Yao,” Ivan said, taking hold of Yao’s small thin hand in one of his own much larger one. “Take care of yourself. Be careful.”

“ _ You _ be careful,” Yao amended, flashing him a rare reassuring smile. There were certain smiles, Ivan noticed, that only he could ever induce in Yao. It filled him with a flutter of warmth as he turned to a very tense Alfred, who was looking at him as one contemplates a used car, measuring his pros and cons right then and there.

“Well, let’s go.”

Alfred nodded, following several steps behind. Ivan noticed immediately and cast him a serious look. “You need to stay close,” he instructed, trying to sound patient when really his mind was abuzz with all the mayhem from the day thus far. Alfred adjusted his pace so he strode right beside Ivan, needing to walk a bit faster to match the stride of Ivan’s longer legs. It wasn’t until they were out of the warehouse and reentering the docks proper that Ivan pieced several things together. The location they were to meet up again with Yao was on the other side of their barricaded neighborhood; he would need to retrace his footsteps from earlier today. It was also then that he realized why David’s group gave Yao grief…they were who they stole the guns from in the first place to sell to the Fireflies. Ivan’s remorse was limited, however; these days, it was every man for himself. Or, in many cases, every group.

And then he remembered that they would need to sneak back through the docks to get back to civilization. Without Yao. With a total stranger. Ivan sighed, casting a sidelong glance at Alfred, only to find him measuring Ivan up as well.

This was going to be a long day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions mount as danger awaits around every corner: both Infected and humans are out for their own gain, and Ivan and Alfred's companionship is off to a very precarious start.

Ivan liked being right. In a setting where making good judgment calls could mean the difference between life and death, being right was a requirement. When death wasn’t a possibility, being right just felt good.

This was neither of those cases.

Already the awkwardness of the situation was making itself prevalent even with the need to sneak passed David and his cronies. That was some potent social discomfort, to be felt even in the face of gunfire. Fortunately, Ivan was pleasantly surprised to find that Alfred was rather street smart, or the post-apocalyptic version of street smart. He knew to keep his head down and always be ready to dive out of the way, a habit that had taken Ivan awhile to master which Yao tried to grind into his head ever since…well, tragedy waits on no one. Ivan had never been particularly close with Yao’s siblings, but their fate shook him almost as badly as Irunya’s. Yao liked to think he was too stoic for such displays, but oh, he showed it.

“Who are those creeps?” Alfred breathed from his spot crouched beside Ivan.

Ivan paused, watching one armed man turn and march towards the warehouse they had just abandoned. “Cruel men,” Ivan answered softly. “We stole from them; the less guns they have the better off everyone else is. But they are not about to let that go.” He tugged at Alfred’s arm and they moved slowly on. The maze of crates arranged almost like soldiers in formation across the dock provided nice places to hide and take cover, but of course created some blind spots, particularly when turning corners. Ivan’s ears were ringing from the strain of trying to pinpoint each man’s location. The vibrations from their footfalls reverberated just enough to assist in mapping out their tracks.

A series of rough taps on the shoulder alerted Ivan to Alfred’s wide, worried gaze. Silently, Alfred pointed to somewhere over Ivan’s shoulder; turning, he saw David himself strolling along the docks, gun up and ready to fire. His eyes swept ahead of him; they were just beyond his sight, but if he turned much further left, they could be in view of him behind the crates.

“ _ Chyort vazmi _ ,” Ivan swore under his breath; in his haste to move away his hand landed firmly on Alfred’s shoulder, not registering the contact at the time, nor how Alfred tensed beneath his touch. With steady nudges, Ivan guided them further down the row, glancing every now and again over his shoulder. David was continuing his path, his back to them; now, he was turning, looking right down the row of crates they hid behind. He was marching over, but now alarm had been raised. One step closer, another, one more. The barrel of his gun glinted in the setting sun. Onward Ivan and Alfred crept, hearts pounding. Another step. Another. If they moved so much as a centimeter too high, they would be visible. One more step. One more.

And the next time Ivan looked over his shoulder, David met his gaze. The barrel of his gun rose.

“Go!” And with a mighty shove Ivan sent Alfred reeling five feet to the side as a small crater erupted where he had crouched moments ago. David let out a poisonously sweet laugh as he reloaded his gun, Ivan dove aside right as a bullet whizzed by and impeded itself in the nearby crate. His outstretched hand quickly latched onto Alfred; both wasted no time scrambling to their feet and, still half-crouched, sprinting as best they could down the aisle and vaulting over another row of boxes. Men were yelling. The blasts of gunfire pierced the twilit air, shattering all pretenses of serenity this seaside location might have had before. All the while, Ivan’s arm remained draped over Alfred’s shoulders, continually trying to keep him leaning low. His free hand had pulled his handgun free and was returning fire. A moment of triumph arose when he heard a cry of pain that most certainly came from David.

Alfred did not take well to the prolonged contact. Swooping low, he unlatched himself from Ivan’s grip and sprinted on.

“Hey!” Ivan called, torn between astonishment and anger. Who was this newcomer to pull away from his protection? He and Yao had been burdened with escorting him, and here he was running away from his services. Ivan pelted after him, only half focusing on the vengeful crooks behind them.

That was a mistake.

With a crash and a roar, one of the gunmen charged into Ivan from the side, and the two crashed painfully into a broken-down forklift. A stabbing pain blossomed in Ivan’s shoulder blade as, beside him, his attacker groaned and began to regain his bearings. Through the throbbing in his shoulder, Ivan flung himself atop the man, gun tossed aside, as he pressed his hands to the man’s throat. Fingers clawed fruitlessly at his wrists, trying to pry him off. Ivan pressed harder still against the man’s windpipe, relishing in how his eyes bulged.

“Ah!”

Ivan let out a choked gasp as a second assailant joined the fray, reaching from behind to press a metal pipe against his neck and drag him back. Ivan coughed, moving backward in an attempt to free himself from the constraint, but the second man merely pulled further until Ivan was pressed against his chest, throat closed off as the pipe dug into his neck. His elbows flew left and right, trying to strike his attacker, but they both merely ended up twisting and writhing where they stood, Ivan’s lips gradually paling as he lost more air.

_ Wham! _

Alfred came diving out of nowhere, all thoughts of planning and sneaking forsaken as he crashed into the taller man. It was enough. With a deep inhale of blessedly fresh air, Ivan spun, elbow plowing into his attacker’s stomach; the man doubled over, retching as Ivan scooped up his gun and, in one single fluid motion, levelled the barrel at the man’s head and fired. He fell with a dull thump to the ground, blood pooling beneath his cracked skull.

Victory was short lived but fruitful nonetheless. Grabbing an ashen faced Alfred in a vicelike grip, Ivan sent them tearing off in the opposite direction as reinforcements came. The gang was slowed; David was injured. The odds were in their favor as the pair sprinted away from the docks, feet hammering, hearts pounding even more. The sight of abandoned buildings was a blessing. Cover. They had cover now.

In this little strip of civilization, just outside the barrier of relentless patrols, one could take a tentative rest. There was always a guarantee of running into Infected, but holing up in a well-fortified area offered more protection than any other place available to them at the moment. And so Ivan did not permit them to stop until they were within a cookie cutter suburban home that had once surely been charming, a welcome sight for its inhabitants after a long day. The people who called this house home were gone now, though; Ivan suspected some of them must have been the Runners he and Yao faced when they first stumbled across this area some time ago.

Panting, Ivan slid down the wall to rest on the musty floor. In front of them, Alfred was doubled over, hands on his knees as he tried to regain his breath.

“That…was really…close,” Alfred said between pants. “I didn’t think…we’d…hey!”

Ivan had risen and seized Alfred by the collar of his jacket. “What were you thinking?”

Blue eyes widened behind square spectacles. “What the hell?” he demanded.

“You go tearing off like that?” Ivan said, English ready to slip from his mind in his annoyance. “What do you think all of this is for? We just finished arranging with the German to escort you, and you go off on your own?”

Alfred scowled, shoving one of Ivan’s large hands from his shoulder. Ivan immediately replaced it again. Alfred’s scowl deepened and the process repeated once more. “Prussian,” he said suddenly, stepping back so he was out of Ivan’s range.

“What?”

“Prussian. He’s really particular about that. Not German-  _ Prussian _ .”

Ivan stared. “I do not care if he is descendant of Atlantis,” he said almost shrilly. “He is annoying and abrasive, and gave clear instructions. Why make my and Yao’s job harder by playing hide and seek?”

“Dude, you gotta chill, I wasn’t even out of your line of sight, we were being  _ fired at _ and I just wanted to get away from the manhandling.”

“Manhandling?” Ivan echoed.

“Yeah, Red, manhandling. You’re way too touchy feelsy. Or at least way too touchy.”

“My name is not Red.”

“I know, dude, it’s a joke.”

“Where is the punch line?”

“You probably ate it,” Alfred muttered, eyeing Ivan’s great size. It was said under his breath, not even meant to be heard by the Russian, but oh, he heard. Violet eyes narrowed.

“Oh, I see now. Because of my accent. And that is why you thought I was from the mafia.”

“Y…yeah. Like I said, joke.”

“Or KGB?”

“Yeah.”

“What if I told you my great-uncle Vadim was arrested and tortured by the KBG? Still funny?”

“Dude, look, I’m sorry!” Alfred waved his hands through the air in frustration. “Won’t happen again, Red. I was never told Russians don’t have a sense of humor.”

“This can be very easy,” Ivan said slowly, advancing upon Alfred. “Or this can be very, very painful. Which will it be, Yankee?”

Alfred bristled, chest puffing out defiantly. “Well, at least it’d be interesting.”

They stared, amethyst meeting sapphire, a battle of wills. Ivan’s eyes were narrowed, lips pursed, ready to continue this silent challenge indefinitely. Those glasses glinted softly in the dying light coming in from the window, partially obscuring the defiant irises behind them. At long last, Alfred sighed, a deep thing that seemed to deflate his entire body. He suddenly found intense interest in the laces of his sneakers.

“I’m sorry, man, all that stuff was apparently really stupid and I shouldn’t have said it.”

Ivan did not back down. He did not tense further, but his posture remained stiff as a board. Alfred’s eyes slowly dragged themselves up from his shoes, a confused look adorning his features as he waited for some kind of reaction. After a few moments longer in utter silence, Ivan figured he’d let him suffer enough. Ivan too sighed.

“All of this is crazy,” he muttered, returning to his sitting position at the base of the wall. “We barely know each other and now have to spend all this time together until we reach the Fireflies.”

“Yeah.” Hesitantly, Alfred came to sit down beside him. A foot of empty space remained between them, a deep trench of tension. But the Russian had made no move to get away. “I just moved off cause, well, if you didn’t notice, we were being fired at.”

Ivan scowled, not as much venom behind it; it was more fatigue. “When your German friend-”

“Prussian.”

“Told us to escort you, I knew I would have to play bodyguard.”

“But you don’t!” Alfred insisted with a wave of the hands. Ivan jabbed a finger at him.

“Yao and I want to get this done and over with so we can fix the sneaky tricks your friend pulled. “So we need you to cooperate with us.”

“Yao’s your Asian friend?” Alfred clarified, refusing to agree to Ivan’s demands.

Ivan nodded, stretching as he clambered back to his feet. “Da. I have known him for ages. We are very close to pursuing some much nicer arrangements for ourselves. This deal seems to be the final piece.”

Alfred raised his hands, palms out, in a gesture of understanding, saying airily “Hey, I’m all for that. We’ll get it so you two can buy a nice holiday home in zombie hell no problem.” He let out a grunt as he too rose to his feet, dusting off the backs of his legs.

“Not a holiday home,” Ivan informed him, marching over to the coffee table and taking a quick inventory of his supplies and ammunition. “Now go check to see if there is any medicine or things we could use. And  _ stay close _ . Let me know where you are.”

“Yeesh, yeah, I’ll just scout out an entire house while being  _ close _ and sneak around  _ making noise _ .” Alfred made a huge show of rolling his eyes, sauntering off, footsteps louder than needed. Ivan let out a sigh of relief.

“Help me survive him, Irunya,” he muttered, glancing up at the cracked ceiling. “You see what a headache he is already? Why do Yao and I have to work with someone so foolish? This could have been easy.” The popcorn ceiling offered no answer. But Ivan liked to imagine he could hear Irunya’s musical laugh as she patted his shoulder and reminded him of the good things that came out of being patient. Whatever you put in was what you got in return. “But you did so much,” he reminded her, glancing down at his supplies. “And someone who was supposed to protect you…let you die.” His voice broke off. No…he couldn’t go down that path again, no good ever came of that horrid trail of thought… The cherished pink scarf around his neck suddenly felt very snug. Calloused fingers worked their way under the fabric, loosening it around the damaged neck. All these years and all these scars later, the only thing he had to be grateful for was that they were from other humans rather than Infected. Had one of the Infected bitten into him…well, he knew what he wanted to do.

In truth, although sometimes he and Yao did find bits of useful items each time they returned, Ivan really just wanted Alfred to leave the room so he could have some quiet time. No obligations to force conversation- which was already proving disastrous- and just some time to think, to reflect. Gentle thumping and the sound of drawers sliding, cabinets closing, alerted him to Alfred’s continued presence, leaving him free to his own devices.

He was running low on pain killers; the supply would run out soon. Occasionally he would use pills if he was plagued with a migraine or aches around his neck, but otherwise he tried to save them for any injury delivered in the line of his and Yao’s “business”.

Bullets were easy enough to obtain; he got in so many gunfights that swapping out weapons was as common as changing his socks…actually, he needed new socks. The heels on most of his were worn through and the blisters from that could be unbearable, and he would be doing a lot of walking.

Food came from rations and anything else they found that was salvageable. Ivan had learned firsthand not to place too much trust in nonperishables he came across. The stomach problems he got from the pasta he tried to boil for soup had left him confined to the bed and bathroom for four days. Yao had stayed with him for quite a bit of it, at least. Even as he scolded Ivan for making such a stupid choice, Yao’s delicate yet strong fingers continually brushed his bangs out of his face while his free hand rubbed reassuring circles into his back as Ivan wretched into the toilet. He had needed another two days free of vomiting before he could walk properly. Yao had given him two-thirds of his own rations during those two days, to help him build up his strength again.

Wherever Yao was, Ivan thought as he repacked his supplies and went off to search for Alfred, he hoped he was alright dealing with that abrasive albino.


End file.
